


White as Lilies' Bloom

by Neurotenical (ThatAcePaladin)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Diplomatic Negotiations, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, Lactation, M/M, Male Lactation, Mentions of Body Dysphoria, Mild Altered Mental States, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild canon divergence, Nursing, Other, Prolactin is a Hell of a Drug, Season/Series 02, Sex Pollen, Trans Shiro (Voltron), but more like Cuddle Pollen, but only minor, mentions of medical procedures, mostly its Soft, or uh Milk Pollen, this is gen and pretty SFW but its kinda mature subject matter I guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21598546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatAcePaladin/pseuds/Neurotenical
Summary: “Have you felt… weird at all, since Cortalis?” Shiro asked three nights later after a particularly rough sparring match. Keith wiped the sweat from his face and blinked, barely peeking an eye above the towel he was buried in.“No, why? Is something wrong?”“No, I’m—” Shiro smiled thinly, waving him off. “It’s nothing, forget I said anything.”A routine diplomatic mission has unforeseen consequences as Shiro develops a biological reaction to something in the alien planet's atmosphere. He tells himself its nothing and pushes through, but the symptoms continue to build and worsen until, eventually, Shiro buckles under the strain. Luckily for him, Keith is there to help him through it, no matter the implications.
Relationships: Keith & Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 79
Collections: Bloom: a Trans Sheith Zine





	White as Lilies' Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> This was my contribution to the BLOOM trans sheith zine! Shiro is afab but is referred to exclusively with he/him pronouns throughout. There are only minor mentions of dysphoria, breast reduction surgery and other medical procedures, but if those bother you please take care! This all happens mostly in following the second break in the story, so skim those paragraphs if you want to avoid it! This is hard to rate because in the west any sort of breastfeeding/nursing is considered NSFW even though its just a natural thing to pretty much the rest of the world, so the T and up rating is a precaution. There's no NSFW content and only passing mentions of anything sexual. 
> 
> There is a very minor canon divergence in that Shiro knows Keith is Galra, but this takes place before "The Blade of Marmora" episode. I hope you enjoy!

Shiro’s focus wavered as his nose twitched for approximately the seventh time in the past twenty minutes. He stubbornly refused to rub it, as, after the first two times, he’d found out the hard way that the native Cortalis people found such fidgeting rude while conversing. So he sniffled and wished he could put his helmet back on to filter out the thick air but that was  _ also _ rude in their culture. Apparently, eye contact and exposed faces signaled peace among them. It made sense, what with their faces sporting delicate sense-organs on the sides of their weasel-like muzzles; to show something so vital was to trust, Allura had explained.

The ambassador, Ellyik, continued to speak with Coran and Hunk about their issues with famine, but Shiro had long since tuned it out. Allura and Pidge had remained in the Castle up in orbit; they’d been warned not to bring any women down to the surface and when asked why, the Cortalian hailing them had simply said it was “for their comfort.” He had no idea what that meant, as there were plenty of female Cortalians bustling about in the square, their fuzzy cubs clinging to their long, sturdy tails and watching the newcomers with big black eyes. If the presence of women discomforted them so much, it didn’t seem to extend to their own kind.

Keith elbowed him in the ribs, instantly snapping him back to attention. Ellyik cast an irritated glance in his direction, whiskers stiff and the air sacs flanking his muzzle inflating, flashing an aggravated orange before smoothing back down. Busted. Shiro tried to focus after that, he really, truly did, but the thick atmosphere and the blanket-heavy scent of flowers and ripening fruit conspired to fuzz his concentration. It didn’t help that the Cortalians had a very fluid way of moving, with their ferret-long bodies and four arms perfectly balanced by their thick, vividly colored tails. It reminded him of old dragon dances that his grandfather had shown him holovids of as a child. It made him want to find the first vaguely horizontal surface and lie down for a nap.

“—thank you, this will be of great aid to us.” Ellyik’s monotonous voice caught his ear, drawing him back into the conversation. “We may be a small planet, but we would be honored to aid in the fight against the Galra.”

Shiro’s eyes flicked to Keith when he saw him stiffen, a momentary break in his facade before he schooled himself back into passive indifference. It was hard to keep the concern off of his face, but he knew the Cortalians looked down on outward displays of emotion in public. Luckily Ellyik and the others didn’t see it, turned away from them as they were. Cortalis was in a strategic position and would be a valuable asset, which would bring them one step closer to bringing Zarkon’s reign to an end. He only wished they could have brought Allura; she’d have had the alliance secured and everyone back on the ship two vargas ago.

Ellyik thanked them and offered an assortment of local fruits as a token of gratitude, which Hunk eagerly accepted. Shiro was glad; he knew Hunk got antsy without anything to use for his stress-baking. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck and his nose twitched again. He turned and Keith was watching him, his face red and splotchy with the heat and his hair plastered to his skin. He looked about as miserable too, and Shiro smiled sympathetically now that Ellyik wasn’t watching them like a hawk.

If he walked just a little too quickly back to the shuttle to depart, no one said anything, which was just as well because he was about four seconds from scrubbing his face until it bled, politeness be damned. Hunk and Coran loaded up the fruit and Keith flung himself across one of the longer passenger benches in the back, groaning and pulling off his heavy chest plate.

Shiro turned to close the door for take-off and noticed a Cortalian woman watching them, the cubs on her tail and clinging to her back staring at the ship in awe. Shiro smiled before he could stop himself but she smiled back, her cubs waving with their delicate paws. It was only then that he noticed she had a strange adornment over her bat-like nose, somewhat like a medical mask adorned with jewelry that no doubt restricted her breathing. Now that he was looking, he realized all the women wore them; he mustn’t have realized through his own discomfort with the atmosphere.

The engine started and Shiro slapped the control panel, the door slowly sliding up to seal the bay. He waved back at the cubs and promptly forgot all about the Cortalians and their strange habits when he turned back to join Keith on the bench.

* * *

“Have you felt… weird at all, since Cortalis?” Shiro asked three nights later after a particularly rough sparring match. Keith wiped the sweat from his face and blinked, barely peeking an eye above the towel he was buried in.

“No, why? Is something wrong?”

“No, I’m—” Shiro smiled thinly, waving him off. “It’s nothing, forget I said anything.”

Shiro regretted lying almost immediately, but his vague sense of unease wasn’t enough to warrant making Keith worried. He’d hoped it wasn’t just him, that maybe something in the Cortalian atmosphere didn’t settle well with humans, but it seemed that wasn’t the case. It was just a dull ache anyway, he’d push through and be fine in a few days.

He showered, trying to work out a stubborn knot of pain in his chest to no avail. It was almost like he had a bruise building across his upper body but there wasn’t any discoloration. He also didn’t remember being struck there any harder than normal during his spar with Keith. He’d forgone wearing his armor and protective vest for the scrap, so maybe he’d hyperextended something and hadn’t realized in the heat of the fight. It was manageable enough; he’d been through much worse, so he toweled off and dressed to meet the others in the galley for a quiet dinner.

Dinner, however, quickly became far from quiet. Other than their trip to Cortalis the last several days had been quiet, the kind of quiet they rarely got to experience. While Shiro was glad for the brief break, it also meant that none of the paladins had had a decent outlet for their excess energy other than training, and training got repetitive quite quickly. Which, of course, meant Lance was practically vibrating with excess energy and was zeroed in on his usual target.

Keith.

He could tell that although Lance didn’t mean any harm by it, the attention and teasing was making Keith uncomfortable. His brow was creased and his expression pinched, eyes downcast at his plate of food goo. No one else seemed to notice it, but then again he doubted anyone else knew Keith’s tells as well as he did. Shiro tried to focus on his own meal but that was hard when it was just bland, gritty paste of dubious origin. It was something that he still hadn’t fully gotten used to after so long in space. He never thought he’d find himself missing the frozen, genetically modified vegetables and MREs from his Garrison spaceflights.

“You locked yourself up in the training deck all day, man, you could have at  _ least  _ spent thirty seconds with the rest of us!” Lance gestured half-heartedly with his spoon, dribbling some of the green goo onto Keith’s side of the table. He watched how Keith cringed away from the volume of his voice, ignoring him like usual to see if he’d focus on anyone else.

The teasing was no worse than normal but it grated on Shiro’s nerves much more harshly, to the point he could barely focus on his meal. He was hyper-aware of Keith’s unease and discomfort, far more than usual; it was as though he was incapable of focusing on anything but how Keith was leaning into his space to put distance between himself and Lance.

Part of him wanted to reach out and pull him even closer, and he was already putting down his silverware before he realized he was about to reach for him. It jarred him enough to tune out the bickering. He and Keith were close, sure, but he’d never had such a strong urge to  _ coddle  _ before. Maybe he was tired; he had been having trouble sleeping lately. That had to be it, just lack of sleep.

“I wanted to train, that’s all.” Keith sighed, pushing his uneaten food goo around on his plate.

“You’ve been beating up those stupid gladiator bots for the last, like, three days! What, too good to spend time with the rest of us—”

“ _ That’s enough! _ ”

The volume of his own voice startled Shiro nearly as much as it did everyone else at the table. Lance recoiled hard enough to nearly knock himself out of his chair and the idle chatter immediately died. Feeling everyone’s eyes on him made Shiro’s skin crawl and flush with embarrassment. The anger had bubbled up out of nowhere and vanished just as quickly, leaving him feeling almost queasy with the mental whiplash.

“Shiro—” Allura spoke up, breaking the silence, “—was that quite necessary?”

_ Absolutely not _ , he wanted to reply immediately, but the words wouldn’t form properly. Instead, he stood up and shoved his chair back, swallowing thickly as the weird tension in his chest screwed up tighter.

“I’m—sorry, excuse me—” Shiro said and then fled the room with as much dignity as he could salvage. He heard someone call after him but he couldn’t tell who, so he walked faster down the hall towards his quarters. When he didn’t hear pursuing footsteps he let himself breathe, hurriedly punching in the access code to unlock his door. It  _ whooshed  _ open and he shut it behind him as fast as he could.

What the hell was that? He’d never gotten so bent out of shape over Lance’s ribbing before, and it wasn’t even aimed at him! Sure, he had never been a fan of Lance’s idea of blowing off steam through catty teasing, but getting so angry as to snap was entirely unlike him. He scrubbed his hands over his face and exhaled loudly, letting himself drop heavily onto his cot. 

He had a whole three minutes of reprieve before the door slid open, Keith standing at the threshold.

“Shiro, are you all right ?”

Of course he’d come to check on him. He was such a good kid—wait, what? Kid? He hadn’t thought of him as a kid for years now, why had that suddenly popped into his head? Shiro grunted noncommittally and lifted his arm in invitation for Keith to join him. He only had to wait a few seconds before the mattress dipped as Keith crawled in beside him, tucking in against his chest. Shiro let his arm fall over his eyes and breathed, already feeling better with Keith here and not on his own at the table. He could protect him much better here.

“...How are you feeling?” Keith’s voice was strained and a little unsure—oh no, that was no good. 

Shiro looked down at him and froze, realizing he’d wrapped his arm around him and pulled him close without even realizing it. Keith’s eyes were questioning but he didn’t shy away from the touch.

“...Y’know, I’m starting to think I might be a little under the weather.”

“Think it was Cortalis? You mentioned you weren’t feeling great after visiting there.” Keith let his chin rest on Shiro’s ribs, and something in Shiro’s brain screeched to cuddle him close and… and do  _ something _ . 

Okay, something was  _ definitely  _ going on.

“I don’t know. I thought I was okay until dinner, it was mostly just aches and pains and—” and wanting to protect and comfort Keith with everything he had and ”—stuff.” He almost squeaked out the last bit, realizing that whatever this was ran deeper than just discomfort. He’d always wanted to help Keith but this was far more intense than he was used to, and judging from the faint blush across Keith’s cheeks, it was a little too much for him as well.

“What kind of pain?”

“I don’t know, exactly. I feel like I strained something but I know I didn’t.” Shiro shrugged, careful not to move too much with Keith laying against him. “It isn’t some new symptom and I’m pretty sure it's not a surgical ache, so I’m at a loss.”

“If you don’t know, I don’t know,” Keith replied, shrugging back, “but it's just a small ache, right? It should go away on its own.” His voice hitched up a bit at the end and it took Shiro a moment to realize it was because he’d slipped his cold prosthetic under Keith’s shirt to rub at his back.

“I—I’m sorry, don’t know what came over me,” Shiro muttered, jerking his hand back. Keith snorted and made himself comfortable, wordlessly declaring his intentions to spend the night and watch him. Shiro wasn’t about to protest against that and scooted over so he had more room. Hopefully whatever this was would pass on its own, and soon, so he could go back to acting like himself.

* * *

Unfortunately for Shiro, the “tiny ache” did not go away.

Instead, it got worse.

_ Much _ worse.

The pressure morphed from a strained ache to throbbing, swollen pain, as if there was suddenly too little room in his chest. Sleeping was almost impossible, between it and the nightmares, and most nights he found himself staring into the mirror in his quarters, trying to puzzle out the issue. By the sixth night of worsening pain and little sleep, desperation was setting in.

It was well into the night cycle. Even if he couldn’t accurately read the Altean timepiece on the wall, the dim colors were telling enough. He was restless and disquieted, his chest tender and raw with irritated nerves that made him feel uncomfortable in his own skin. Not that he wasn’t familiar with the sensation—distress and dysphoria had long been dancing partners of his wasting disease—but there was a sense of urgency about it now that he was in space, an entirely unfamiliar environment. What if it was some sort of alien infection or parasite?

The last thing he wanted to do was go through all the trouble of getting scans and tests or, worse, be subjected to the healing pod again, only for it to be nothing at all. He’d been lucky that only Keith and Pidge had been there; they both knew what the anchor-shaped scars on his chest meant. His hand brushed over one absentmindedly, following the line of it where it curved under and up his pec. They’d faded with time but still stood out like a dark brand against his skin, the incised tissue granular and rough against his fingertips.

He’d had the reduction surgery a year before he joined the Garrison, long enough ago that he hoped this wasn’t some sort of long-simmering trauma from the procedure. He dug his fingers into his pec and sucked in a breath through his teeth, the sensation twisting from an unfocused ache to bright pins-and-needles. It wasn’t dissimilar from the feeling of his leg or arm falling asleep, but he’d never had it happen to his chest. He tried to rub at the muscle with soothing circles, anything to try and ease the pain, but it didn’t seem to do any good.

Shiro grunted in annoyance and let his hands drop to his lap, glaring down at himself. The discomfort was edging into overwhelming. He knew that if he laid down to try and sleep he’d get no relief, so instead, he pulled on a loose shirt and left his quarters, hoping to slip into the training deck and wear himself out the old-fashioned way. He’d done so dozens of times since the journey started and most of the paladins were none the wiser, except for—

A loud  _ whack _ , followed by a muffled snarl, echoed down the hallway and brought him to a stop. When the next sound was the ringing of a blade against metal, he knew it was Keith, likely taking out his late-night frustrations on a Gladiator bot. While he’d never wish any discomfort on Keith great enough to drive him to the training deck so late at night, he was glad that he wasn’t going to spend the night there alone.

Sure enough, Keith was well into a training cycle when he entered the room, hacking viciously at a bot. Judging by the sweat dripping down his face and the messy state of his hair, he’d been going at it for a while. Shiro leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms, watching as Keith gracefully downed the robot with a solid blow to its hip, disabling its servos, sending it collapsing to the floor in a jumbled heap.

“Trouble sleeping?” Shiro said, and Keith jolted up like a startled cat, nearly dropping his bayard.

“Oh, hey, Shiro.” He grinned a bit lopsidedly, dragging the back of his arm over his face to clean away the sweat. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

Shiro waved him off and walked out onto the floor now that the sequence was terminated. The nagging itch in the back of his brain that had just worsened since the incident with Lance instantly fixated on how tired and worn out Keith looked; the ache in his chest twisted and very nearly made him grimace. It looked like the bot had managed to land plenty of blows, the sterile lighting making the nasty bruise blooming over Keith’s cheek stand out like a brand.

The offer to spar died on Shiro’s lips when Keith winced and grabbed at his shoulder, digging his fingers into the muscle aggressively. He must’ve strained it, or pulled it, or maybe even torn something—

Shiro gasped as the tension that had been building in his chest suddenly gave way, the pain peaking and then twisting into an aching sort of relief. It still  _ hurt  _ but it hurt differently; he jumped when Keith’s hands gripped his sides, steadying him. He said something but Shiro didn’t catch it, his hand groping absently at his chest when he realized he felt damp. Hell, was it blood? Was it something contagious?

“Shiro?” Keith’s voice dipped into a low rasp, something he’d only heard when he’d—oh.  _ Oh _ . Yellow bled into Keith’s eyes and his pupils constricted into slits, his nose flaring as he scented the air. He could feel the pinprick beginnings of claws through the shirt, especially as Keith leaned in close. He’d only known about Keith’s heritage for a few months, since they were stranded on the lizard-infested planetoid where he’d nearly died of poisoned quintessence, so seeing him change so suddenly was still a shock to him. He couldn’t immediately reply.

“Shiro, you—” His expression pinched, as if trying to parse out what exactly he was trying to say. “—You smell different. Sweeter?” 

That was… he forgot how heightened Keith’s senses were, especially now that his latent biology was manifesting. It made something in his gut squirm that Keith could  _ smell  _ whatever was happening to him.

“I don’t… I don’t know what’s going on.” His fingers brushed across the fabric over his pecs and he realized it was soaked; thankfully the dark fabric rendered it almost invisible, but even if Keith couldn’t see it, he obviously had picked up on its scent. Keith’s eyes darted down at the movement and Shiro felt himself flush.

“Can I look?” Keith asked, as if he really needed to, and Shiro nodded. He tugged up the shirt and Shiro hissed out a breath when the wet fabric clung to his over-sensitive skin. Keith rucked the shirt up enough to expose his chest and stopped, his eyes dilating in a way that made Shiro’s knees weak. 

He’d only just started entertaining the idea of Keith as more than a friend within the last few months but whatever affliction had overcome him seemed to be kicking it into overdrive; Keith just looking him over was enough to make arousal spark low in his belly, a new reaction that seemed at war with the building urge to hold him close. He couldn’t tell what his body wanted anymore, sweat beading on his forehead as he squirmed under such intense scrutiny. 

Shiro shivered as he felt Keith’s hand brush across a scarred pec, the calloused pads of his fingers rough against his damp skin. He could just barely feel the edge of a claw ghost over the deadened tissue haloing his nipple as Keith traced the line of scars that swept across his chest. It wasn’t anything Keith hadn’t seen before but the way he was looking at him, it was as if he was seeing him for the first time all over again.

“Shiro, you—” His voice skirted the edge of a purr, gravelly and rasping. “—I don’t know what else this could be but…” He trailed off, thumb swiping across the swell of his nipple. When he lifted it above where the shirt had wadded up for Shiro to see, there was a watery, opaque, white fluid in the dip of his claw. Shiro blinked, uncomprehending for a moment, before it clicked.

“... _ Milk _ ?” 

Approximately fifty different thoughts flashed through his head at the same time but they all came to a screaming halt when he watched Keith nonchalantly pop his thumb into his mouth to lick it clean. Shiro sputtered, fumbling over his own words in shock, but Keith just huffed a laugh through his nose at his reaction.

“Shiro, it's okay, that’s what it is,” Keith said, as if anything about this was normal, “see?” and his hand was back on Shiro’s chest, gently kneading at the tender flesh there. True to his word, when Shiro moved his shirt out of the way he saw milk welling up, beading from his nipple into tiny white pearls. Shiro had no idea how this could have started, or how it was even happening; difficulties with producing milk had been the first thing the doctor had warned him of when he’d expressed interest in the surgery. He’d never expected to have children so it’d seemed inconsequential at the time. 

“...I’m, uh, starting to think that any future visits to Cortalia are a hard no from me,” Shiro said with a breathless little laugh, the Cortalians’ stuck up nature and their strange insistence on masks starting to make a lot of sense with this brought to light. He thought back to the Cortalian woman and her kits who had waved goodbye to him and decided that he, too, would have chosen an uncomfortable mask outside if it prevented this from happening.

Keith just shook his head, hand still pressed against him and eyes fixed on his chest. Even though he was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was lactating, Shiro had to admit that even expressing such a small amount of milk had done more for the constant ache he’d suffered than anything else. He started to speak before he’d even fully realized how wildly inappropriate it was to ask Keith for  _ that _ and slammed his mouth shut before he could embarrass himself like that.

But Keith, always perceptive, seemed to already know what he’d been about to ask. He turned away slightly to hide the blush that bloomed across his cheeks, his other hand drumming nervously against Shiro’s ribs. Mortified that he might have made him uncomfortable, Shiro made to pull away but stopped when Keith’s grip on him turned to steel.

“Shiro, please, I can help.” Keith’s voice was small, almost fragile, and Shiro’s chest throbbed painfully in response. “But I—I get it if you don’t want it. I  _ do _ , I just… I’ve seen how it’s been bothering you. I want to help.”

“Keith, you don’t have to—”

“I  _ want  _ to help.”

Oh.

“...Not here,” Shiro sighed, straightening his shirt as Keith backed away. “My quarters will work if you really want to do this.” The hungry look Keith gave him was answer enough and set the low heat in his belly flaring again.

With it being so late in the night cycle they didn’t encounter anyone on the walk back, much to Shiro’s relief. It was only after they were both inside and the door was firmly locked that he let himself breathe easily, peeling off his ruined shirt and dropping it to the floor. Keith was already perched on the edge of the bed, his jacket crumpled up and forgotten beside him. He waited until Shiro made himself comfortable, back to the door to shield himself from view if anyone managed to override the lock, and only moved closer when Shiro gestured for him to do so.

“If you need me to stop, for any reason, just tell me,” Keith said, waiting until Shiro nodded before tucking in against him. Keith’s breath was hot against his wet skin and Shiro wrapped his arms around him, indulging in the urge to cuddle that had been shadowing him since the ordeal began. Feeling Keith melt into the contact made him relax in turn, thumb rubbing gently against the small of his back as he nuzzled in close to his chest.

That by itself was already smoothing over the rough edge of discomfort, and when Keith mouthed at him he was surprised he could feel it. He’d been sensitive there before the surgery but afterward he’d struggled to get much of any response from his clipped nerves. Keith’s lips were soft and warm when he took his nipple into his mouth, tongue silken against his pebbling skin, latching easily. Shiro inhaled sharply through his nose at the first tentative suckle, the pain flaring bright and jagged for a moment until it dissolved into blessed relief, his milk beginning to flow freely.

Keith made a soft sound in his throat, fingers kneading gently at his swollen flesh, trying to encourage more milk to let down and fill his mouth. It felt strange, wholly unlike anything Shiro had ever experienced before, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or disorienting or any of the many things he’d feared it would be. He curled around Keith as much as he could without disturbing him, the latent desire to hold him now pressing at the forefront of his mind. Keith responded by trying to burrow impossibly closer, taking slow but deep, steady draughts that soothed the built-up pain away bit by bit.

Whatever Shiro expected, the reality of it was nothing like what he’d dreaded. He felt a thick, gauzy sense of peacefulness settle over him the longer Keith nursed, lulled into a quiet calm the likes of which he hadn’t experienced in years. Keith looked just as affected as he was, his eyes closed and features relaxed, the only movements his lazy kneading and quiet swallows. A small purr built in Keith’s chest as Shiro buried his nose into his spar-mussed hair, breathing in his warm scent. The earlier arousal was smothered by the bone-deep need to nurture and comfort but it still thrummed under his skin, no matter how faint. It could wait.

It was so easy to drift like this, oblivious to any passage of time, only rousing when Keith pulled free with a sleepy whimper, having drunk him dry. Shiro slid his hands up to cradle Keith’s face, tucking a few strands of hair behind his ears. His eyes cracked open in response, sclera still gleaming gold, and leaned into his touch. It would’ve been easy to end it there, to sleep and, come morning, pretend it never happened. He could even deal with the problem himself now that he knew the cause and spare Keith any further involvement. It would’ve probably been the right thing to do as he was still Keith’s mentor and Keith his successor.

Instead, Shiro pulled him closer and bared his other side, kissing the crown of Keith’s head as he allowed him to nurse again.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to poke me [on my NSFW](https://twitter.com/Neurotenical) or [SFW twitter accounts!](https://twitter.com/ThatAcePaladin)


End file.
